A Moment of Weakness
by celtic-dreamscape-94
Summary: You've never seen this before, and you're sure nothing has happened to bring this on. We sit so close, yet you think we're a million miles away. You feel locked out, because you think you have nothing to do with this, and you don't know how to console me


_**A/N: Ok, so not what I should be writing, but I was trying to go to sleep last night when a bunch of phrases and ideas popped into my head. Initially I thought, I'll wait until morning, but I didn't want to forget them, and then it turned into a whole page of writing before I went to sleep. I added more today to finish it off.**_  
><em><strong>I hope you like <strong>**:)**_

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><p>I'm toying with the idea of telling you; just once and for all letting it out into the open so that it can stop choking me. I thumb the side of my tea cup, feeling the gentle rise of the intricate pattern underneath my thumbprint. My gaze travels into space, finding a niche in time that allows me to see through into the deep blue expanses from the safety of my couch. The air around me becomes quieter for it, the tapping of keyboards and the soft buzz of people fading away, like a slider switch being pushed on a soundboard.<p>

I find the dulling of my senses pulling me elsewhere, away from the place I am sat. I imagine myself now, wrapping my arms around you gently, much like the soft and delicate embrace of a daisy chain around a child's neck. I can almost feel the silky smoothness of your hair as I brush away stray strands from your face and tuck them carefully behind your ear. Your soft emerald eyes are twinkling in the new abundance of light. I can almost feel the emotions coursing through my tired old veins, emotions, like oxygen, reviving my heart and filling me with the energy that I thought would never return.

It's when I think I feel tears crowding in my eyes that I break out of the spell. Maybe they've come to find out if they can see the same things I'm imagining. Maybe if they look out of my eyes they'll hope to experience it, and be able to finally appear for another reason other than bitterness and hatred.

It's as they begin to dampen and cling to my lashes that I suddenly see you stood before me, the morning sun pouring through the window and making your eyes twinkle like hundreds of tiny emeralds. Your face is that of a gentle curiosity, mixed with worry, like a bittersweet cocktail.

You ask if I'm ok, and after a brief pause, I nod.

I'm willing the tears not to overspill because I don't want to wipe them away and make it more obvious how much emotion I'm feeling as I smudge moisture across my face. You choose to sit next to me, and I realise that you're not going to leave before my tears topple over and fall of the precipice.

You don't realise that these tears are about you; the longing I feel just to be closer to you, to be at a place where we can hug on the sofa at home, share lingering kisses in the car before work, and settle down to bed together at the end of the day, your shape fitting perfectly into mine underneath the warm duvet. You have no idea. Maybe you think this is about my past, what happened, and what is still happening.

I can tell that you want to talk more about it, ask me what's wrong, but you know I'll give you some cryptic answer that will make you feel just a little deflated because I won't trust you with the truth. But the truth is, I want you to ask me, because then maybe I'll be able to push myself to tell you. I feel I need to. Yet right now, it feels as if I have a little caretaker in my head, when just as I open the door to try and tell you, he runs after me, quickly shutting and locking it before I can say anything, pushing me back inside where I can't bring myself to tell you. I think he's trying to protect me. Maybe he's even protecting you, because there's some niggling feeling that tells me I can't move on until my previous life is done and dusted, or else I'll put you in danger.

I try to smile at you, but my tears are refusing to back down, and they're slowly pushing forward through no man's land, before they'll reach alien territory.

Have I ever cried in front of you? I'm pretty sure I haven't, and I would like to keep it that way, because I don't want you to feel awkward and unsure as I sit there, emotion tumbling down my face like raindrops on a window pane.

But it's too late, and I feel just one rebellious tear escape the clutches of my eyelashes, dropping with a soft, muffled thud onto my face. I look away, turning my blurred gaze to my lap, taking a sip of tea as if that will have the power to take back what just happened. Or maybe I'm just trying to ignore it; look normal. I feel selfish for doing this to you. I can see a kind of fear in your eyes; you're not sure what to do. You've never seen this before, and you're sure nothing has happened to bring this on. We sit there, so close, yet you think we're a million miles away. You feel locked out, because you think you have nothing to do with this, and you don't know how to console me.

Yet after a few seconds, I feel your hand curling around mine, leaking warmth into me, making me shiver, though I'm not cold. You're getting up, and I'm not sure what you're doing, but you lead me away from the couch and towards your office. I follow willingly. I'd follow you anywhere, because you're the one that I'm falling for. I don't know why I'm not brushing the tears from my eyes, even though it's now too late to still be able to will them back.

You push the door open and lead me to your own sofa. I think you're trying to give me a little privacy, allowing me to feel what I feel without everyone seeing. I'm grateful for that. You take up your seat next to me, and suddenly, looking into your caring eyes, I'm choked with a new flood of emotion, and I feel more tears following suit of the first one. You're truly concerned now, but before I can stop myself, I'm falling into you, my arms wrapping around you.

I can tell from the hesitation of your hands that you're confused. Silent tears are trickling down my face, soaking your shoulder, and I know I shouldn't be this weak. I hear you murmur my name as you bring your arms around me. It's still my surname, as we've grown accustomed to calling each other, but I can hear the tiny sense of desire in your voice to use my first name. You're asking me what's wrong, this time with more concern, and I'm rattling off so many things inside my head; my silent reply to your answer. I can't voice it.

I'm sorry for this. You should know I'm sorry. I wouldn't usually do this. In fact, I don't know why I've let it happen this time. I know you'll be awkward around me for at least the rest of today, and I'm not going to tell you why you shouldn't. Because there is no reason, just like there is no reason for my sudden outburst of emotion. I should be able to control myself, because I know this is making what we are more tangled and confused. But I guess it was getting too much for me to keep inside. At least this small moment, truly insignificant in the wider world, will have relieved some of the weight from my shoulders. I'll thank you for this; let you know how grateful I am for letting me dampen your neck with my emotion. And maybe one day I'll be able to tell you why.

Because one day, I have to let you know that this moment of weakness was because I love you.

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><p><em><strong>AN: Yes, a clich****é**__**: I would love reviews. :P**_


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